


Crushed

by Lokiscribe



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Despair, Fear, Gen, Mutilation, Pain, Post-Season/Series 05, Punishment, Threats of Rape/Non-Con
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-20
Updated: 2016-04-20
Packaged: 2018-06-03 09:29:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,505
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6605620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokiscribe/pseuds/Lokiscribe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Theon gets re-captured and returned to Winterfell. Ramsay is waiting for him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Crushed

**Author's Note:**

> Just a little something I wrote. It's not my best work and I doubt it will get many hits, but as Iwan Rheon says, "When you write a song, there's no point keeping it to yourself." 
> 
> ~~~
> 
> To those who follow me for my Loki stories, I AM SO SORRY. I suck so badly, I know. I just have not been motivated to write lately. I have by no means abandoned my other stories, and I really do want to give you an update soon.

Ramsay was waiting just beyond the gates when a trio of Bolton men dragged a terrified Theon inside the walls of Winterfell once more. The prisoner offered no intentional resistance, but he was trembling so hard that the guards had a difficult time keeping hold of him. So fearful was he that his eyes looked about to pop out of his head, widened to the point of appearing unnatural. He did not dare look at his master, directing his gaze instead toward the ground. Loud whimpers continually escaped him. 

Close behind them were the half dozen others who had been sent to retrieve Theon, leading whinnying horses through the gates. Four dogs re-entered the city as well, barking and growling, straining against their leashes to reach Theon, who barely seemed to notice their presence. 

Ramsay’s jaw was clenched, and his eyes burned with fury. His hands were balled into fists at his sides, knuckles whitened and bulging. “Take care of the beasts!” he snapped. “I have business to attend to with _Reek_.” 

Theon began to sob, chest heaving up and down in panic. 

“Should we string him up, My Lord?” one of the men inquired. 

“Not yet!” Ramsay barked impatiently, giving the soldier such a dangerous glare that the man took several steps backward. “Do as I’ve told you. Leave Reek with me.” 

The men retreated, taking the horses and snarling bitches with them. Theon’s guards threw him to the ground, causing him to fall forward onto his hands and knees. The sounds of neighing and barking faded into the distance, leaving only the howl of the wind. 

“Where is my lady wife?” Ramsay demanded. The bastard’s blue eyes were terrifying to behold.

“M-m’lord, I - ” 

“WHERE IS SHE?” 

_”I don’t know!”_ Theon cried. “We became separated as we ran from the dogs!” 

“And why were you running, Reek? You’re _mine_. Sansa Stark is _mine_. Neither of you had a right to run from me!” 

Theon seemed to scramble internally for a response, but nothing intelligible came of it. 

“And what of Myranda? Which of you killed her? Which of you killed _my plaything_?”

“It was me,” Theon whimpered, cringing in terror. “She was going to hurt Sansa, and I just reacted. I’m sorry, master! I’m sorry we ran, but I was afraid!” 

Ramsay laughed humorlessly. “Sorry won’t help you, Reek. We’re far beyond that now! Your disloyalty is bad enough, but you took my wife from me.” He leaned in. “ _My_ wife,” he emphasized. “Just as you took _my_ Myranda. A servant who steals from his master ought to die for it.” 

For the first time, Reek looked up at Ramsay. “Y-yes, master, you’re r-right; I ought to die. I will accept my d-death as p-punishment for my crimes.”

Ramsay gave a grim smile. “Would you like that, Reek? Would you like for me to put you out of your misery?” 

“N-no, master! I - ”

“Don’t lie to me, Reek. Death would be a release for you. I know that well. Do you take me for a fool?”

“No, master, please, no, I don’t think that!” 

“ _Quiet_ ” Ramsay snapped. “Clearly you have insulted my competence as a Lord by presuming you could escape me. And I don’t intend to grant you the mercy of death.”  
He stepped closer to Theon, who curled into himself and cried harder. Ramsay did as he had done the night Reek was born, and took a fist of Theon’s filthy hair, forcing his head back into a painful angle. 

“I no longer have my wife _or_ my whore, Reek,” Ramsay said softly. “Which means I no longer have someone to satisfy my… _needs_. Do you understand me, Reek?”

Theon was unable to nod, but the last traces of color drained from his cheeks. 

“You’ve shown me that I can’t trust you, Reek, even when you appear to be broken. So I can no longer allow you to roam freely around the city.” 

Theon stared blankly up at his captor. Since his release from that gods-forsaken cross, he’d always carried out a daily agenda of chores in various parts of whichever city the Boltons were currently occupying. What could Ramsay possibly intend for him now?

He did not have to wait long to find out. 

“You’ll be confined to my chambers from this day forth, where you will fulfill my pleasure needs whenever I require.” 

A strangled scream escaped Theon’s throat. “Master, please!” he begged, actually daring to reach up and grab the wrist that held his hair in its grasp. 

“I thought I told you never to say please!” Ramsay roared, jerking his wrist free and kicking Theon away from him. He straightened up, panting slightly from the sudden outburst. 

“Prostrate yourself before me.” 

“Wh-what?” 

_”Prostrate yourself before me!”_ Ramsay hissed. “Do it now, or I’ll do to you like I did to that old northern bitch. Shall we see if your heart lasts longer than hers?”

The thought of death by flaying frightened Theon so badly that he nearly said “please” again. The only thing that stopped him was the knowledge that pleading would only anger Ramsay further. Instead, he pushed himself onto his knees, lowering his trembling torso toward the ground.

“Extend your arms a little more. That’s a good boy. Now don’t move.” 

Kneeling with his chest to the floor and his arms outstretched, Theon dug his forehead into the ground, weeping from fear. He could scarcely breathe.

“Now,” he heard Ramsay say. “I’ll admit you served me quite diligently before my marriage. Yes, much work was accomplished by your hands, even if you’re missing a few fingers.”

Theon felt one of Ramsay’s boots poking at the remaining digits on his right hand, one by one, as if he were counting them. He squeezed his eyes shut. _I can’t lose many more fingers_ , he thought. _I can’t_. 

“But I won’t require the use of your hands any longer,” Ramsay continued ominously, causing a shiver of terror to run through Theon. “Whenever I’m not using your arse, your mouth will more than suffice. And you must pay for what you’ve done. So…”

All of a sudden, Ramsay’s foot slammed down on his hand, and Theon screamed. He threw his head back and tried to pull away, but Ramsay ground his fingers into the snow-covered dirt, crushing them into useless appendages. It did not hurt as badly as the pain that followed flaying, but the unexpectedness of it all still made Theon howl as fresh agony exploded in his hand. 

When Ramsay finally pulled his foot away. Theon immediately cradled his right hand to his chest, only to feel Ramsay crush his left a moment later. When it was all over, Theon’s hands were nothing more than two deformed, worthless lumps; balls of pain that left him sobbing in the snow as he cowered at Ramsay’s feet. 

“Now you won’t be able to steal from me, nor will you be able to pull off an escape so easily, I’d imagine.” 

Theon flinched wildly when Ramsay squatted in front of him, but the bastard merely ran a gloved hand through Theon’s hair. 

“Now you’re _truly_ mine,” he said softly, malevolent triumph gleaming in his bright eyes. “Do you understand, Reek?”

Theon nodded rapidly, tears disappearing into the snow as they fell from his anguished face. Ramsay’s hand tightened around his tangled locks. “Say it,” he warned in a dangerous tone. 

Theon whimpered. “I’m yours, m-m’lord. I understand now. I do.” 

“Good.” Satisfied, Ramsay stood up. With his foot, he gestured toward his servant’s bruised and broken fingers. 

“We’ll cut all of them off later. You won’t be needing them anymore. Not for your new position.” 

Theon wailed, despair washing over him like never before. He’d never truly imagined that “worse” could look like the future he now faced. It was unbearable. 

Ramsay, though, was impervious to his suffering. “Go to my room, Reek,” he ordered. Anger still resided within him, but an aura of satisfaction now accompanied it. “Someone will meet you there to fasten your restraints. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you what will happen if you fail to obey my command?”

Theon shook his head frantically, broken hands still clutched to his breast. 

“Good. Off you go, then, Reek.” 

The prisoner fled as quickly as he was capable, hobbling on ruined feet. Ramsay watched him leave before allowing a shit-eating grin to spread across his face. His demented glee was only momentary, however, for his mind shortly returned to that which he still lacked. Sansa Stark was still missing, and she must be found at any cost. 

Ramsay stared out beyond the gates, scrutinizing the falling snow as though the intensity of his glare might cause his wife to appear in the distance. He would have to send another search party straight away. But first… first, he would make use of his new toy. 

“Ben!” he shouted, turning to make his way back to his room. “From now on, you’ll have one dog fewer to look after.”

**Author's Note:**

> If anyone wants to write a fic based on this one, you have my full blessing. I don't want to continue this story myself, but I'd love to read it if someone did!


End file.
